arms

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If your Nerve, deny you --If your Nerve, deny you –
Go above your Nerve –
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve –

That’s a steady posture –
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms –
Best Giant made –

If your Soul seesaw –
Lift the Flesh door –
The Poltroon wants Oxygen –
Nothing more –

I had some things that I called mine --I had some things that I called mine –
And God, that he called his,
Till, recently a rival Claim
Disturbed these amities.

The property, my garden,
Which having sown with care,
He claims the pretty acre,
And sends a Bailiff there.

The station of the parties
Forbids publicity,
But Justice is sublimer
Than arms, or pedigree.

I’ll institute an “Action” –
I’ll vindicate the law –
Jove! Choose your counsel –
I retain “Shaw”!